One
by spottedhorse
Summary: Louisa reflects on her relationship with Martin. Set sometime after series 6.


Like the rest of you, I do enjoy playing with these characters. I sure wish I did own them. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

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It felt so right, so good; we were together, one.

Martin had been called out to the moor just after supper. Old Mr. Leeson was acting funny according to his wife. Turned out he'd had a stroke. Martin had done what he could to help the old man while they waited for the ambulance but the stroke was severe and by the time they loaded him into the vehicle it was obvious that the patient would never truly recover. Martin returned home feeling defeated, as he often did in such cases. It was a side of him that few saw and I had only begun to realize existed after we had been together for some time.

James had been in bed for hours and I had finally given into the temptation of the soft covers and comfortable mattress as well when Martin came in. I heard him downstairs and when he didn't come up after a few minutes, I threw on a robe and went looking for him. The soft glow of a lamp in the kitchen alerted me to his location and I found him standing in front of the sink staring out the window, a glass of water in his hand still half full. "Martin," I called softly.

He turned and looked at me, his eyes clouded and veiled but sorrow etched in his face. "Not good then," I asked. He shook his head negatively. "No, not good," he mumbled dejectedly. I stepped closer to him. "He's…gone then?"

He took a deep breath as if collecting is emotions and answered. "No, not yet. But he'll be lucky if he makes it home from hospital," Martin said quietly. "Most likely bed ridden for whatever time he has left."

"Oh," was all I could manage. Then taking in his appearance again, I knew he needed something, a loving, caring wife perhaps? "Are you hungry? I could fix you something?" It was a stupid question, a mistake I realized as soon as the words were out of my mouth. But he didn't respond with more than a shake of the head. "Of course not," I replied softly. "You never eat after seven." I took his hand in mine. "Come on then…you've had a long day. Let's get you to bed."

He followed me silently and not for the first time I thought how sometimes he reminded me of a lost little boy. Never more so than when I turned to glance at him and give him a reassuring smile. The expression on his face…such need for affection and guidance… and so much trust in his eyes as he looked at me. It warmed me and frightened me at the same time.

Once in the bedroom, I helped him with his suit and slowly he began to take over his preparations for bed. Seeing that he was functioning a little better, I crawled back under the covers and waited for him. After a few minutes he climbed in beside me and settled on his back, stoicism firmly affixed in his features; yet I felt an underlying anticipation. He was waiting or perhaps just hoping for …something.

Scooting closer to him, I reached for him, just to touch him and let him know he was not alone and that's when the façade broke. His arm came around me and pulled me to him. "Oh Louisa," he whispered. And then I knew how I could help him.

Our love making was frenzied at first; he was so very needful, frenetic almost but the energy wasn't really a sexual one. Martin needed to let his feelings out after so many hours of containing and controlling them so closely, pushing them aside to help his patient. So I encouraged him to let it all out.

For all the strong emotions and frantic activity, Martin was gentle as he always was. Even in his most passionate moments in our bed, he was always mindful of me and being careful not to hurt me. It was one of the many surprises that made up Martin Ellingham because he certainly was not that careful of other people's feelings out of our bed.

And now he was inside me. Words cannot describe how right it felt; it is as if my entire life…our entire lives…were made for this moment. Nothing else mattered in the world. It was beyond a physical sensation, although I can't deny that Martin is quite capable of creating some very impressive ones. But this was more. I felt like a need that had been buried deep inside of me, one I hardly knew existed, was finally being met. It is as if we were whole; two very imperfect, broken souls came together and were made whole by the experience. I didn't want it to end, not ever. I could live through eternity with us together like that. But of course, the physical sensations won out as instinct took over and a few moments later we were crashing back to earth.

But something changed in us that night. A new appreciation was born in our relationship. We loved each other before that night, enough to struggle through some really awful times, brutally so. But that night something finally fell into place for us. Oh, our insecurities resurface from time to time still but they don't take over as they used to. And sometimes I catch Martin looking at me with a mixture of his old longing and something new, something I can't quite put words to and neither can he.

Something else changed for us that night. It was the night our twins were conceived; I am convinced of it. I always wanted a lot of children and Martin has now given me three. As I sit here in our little nursery, rocking my sweet little angel Joanie I'm gazing across at my dear Martin, tired form long hours in his surgery yet insisting on helping me with the middle of the night feedings. He's winding our baby boy, Jory, and as I watch them together I am awestruck by my tender, sweet husband. His eyes move away from our baby's head to look at me and his expression softens even more. Even though the set of his mouth remains the same I can tell by the small crinkles at his eyes that he is smiling.

Everything feels so right, so good. We are together; we are one.


End file.
